


if there's a will, there's a way

by karasunotsubasa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A little bit of everything really, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Character Death, Fluff, Historical Fantasy, Light Angst, M/M, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 11:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12506060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunotsubasa/pseuds/karasunotsubasa
Summary: Two neighbouring countries in a state of tentative peace. Two royal families trying to protect their own people. And only one thing that can save them all from the war that is knocking on their door – a royal union that will cement loyalty, breed forgiveness and maybe somehow fix things.





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> finally the time has come!!!! I'm so happy to present this to you guys, gosh, I had so much fun writing this and I just can't wait to see what yall think rycxuyvhjbn !!!!!!!! SO EXCITE!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> without further ado, here's the fic that I worked on for the [victuri big bang](https://victuri-big-bang.tumblr.com/) \+ the incredible art [nadia](http://yukiyuna.tumblr.com/) did for the most BAMF scene in chapter 2 ahhh!!!! make sure to check out her art here and [on tumblr](http://yukiyuna.tumblr.com/post/166818992213/then-let-us-make-it-happen-he-said-yuuri-could) yall!!

 

**Chapter I**

 

 

The call came in the middle of the night, like all sorts of bad news do, with an urgent rasp against the door to Yuuri's guest chamber in the royal palace of Theeratham. Sleep-cloaked, Yuuri slid out of his warm bed and donned the robe that one of the servants had left out for him. His jaw crunched on a yawn, but the knocking continued against Yuuri's hope. If this was one of Prince Phichit's nightly escapades, Yuuri was ready to tell him off. In gentle tones that one would only use while scolding a bosom friend whom he loved and whose friendship and confidence he cherished above all else.

Yuuri's bare feet padded softly against the floor tiles as he walked up to the heavy double winged door. Frowning slightly at the insistence of the person on the other side, Yuuri fought down the unease that suddenly gripped his spine. No longer dillydallying, he threw open the door.

"Who is making such ruckus at this time of day? You better have good reason or–"  

He paused.

It was not the Prince who had greeted him with a low, contrite bow. The worry that had been snarling at Yuuri's heels before had clawed up his calves now, and Yuuri could feel the harsh bite of teeth as it sunk into his knees. The servant that stood before him was a Crow, Yuuri had noticed his dark robes and the silver band wrapped tightly around his forehead, and a Crow coming to find him at an hour such as this could mean nothing good.

"Forgive me for the late call, Your Highness, but the matter is urgent," the man said, sounding out of breath as if he had ran all this way from the relay chamber. "Your sister wishes to speak with you."

Sleep left him like a scorned lover: all of a sudden, with a burn in his stomach and bitterness filling his mouth. Yuuri pressed his lips together and swallowed. Before he'd left home, he and Mari had agreed to talk every other day. The times weren't the most pleasant to travel and with both him and their mother away from home the contact seemed all the more dependent on its timeliness. To have Mari call him with no warning....

"Now, Your Highness," the Crow pressed on, and Yuuri twitched back into himself.

"Lead the way," he immediately ordered.

The corridors were dark and empty. Yuuri's feet could have been freezing, but he couldn't exactly tell. His thoughts, worries of what could have happened to make Mari contact him like this, at a time like this, were far more chilling than anything the cold of the world could offer. The dull light of the torches scattered here and there to light their way made the shadows linger and prowl around them like beasts ready to strike, and strike they would – of that Yuuri had no doubt.

"Through here, Your Highness."

The Crow finally opened some door, holding it for Yuuri. The light of the multitudes of crystal message orbs blinded Yuuri momentarily. He blinked to get rid of the after effects, but they lingered even as they walked past rows of other Crows working on whatever it was the Crows had worked on.

"Yuuri."

It was only his name, a simple word like that, but hearing it over the distance, over the distorted sound coming through the crystal as if Mari was speaking from underwater, Yuuri could recognize the pain in it. The relief. The grief. There was little that could cause that kind of turmoil in her manner, but what little there was it always pertained to family.

Yuuri dreaded to ask, yet did anyway.

"What happened, sister?"

When Mari spoke next, it was with the finality to it that Yuuri dared not dispute. He simply listened and hurt, all in the quiet of his mind, as her words, cracked and vulnerable, came from the orb.

"Mother is dead," she said. "You need to come back home. We need you."

 

***

 

When morning broke on Sunti, the capitol of Theeratham, Yuuri had embraced Prince Phichit, like a brother going to war, exchanged his goodbyes as politely as he was capable, and left, bearing one last hope – a futile hope that war was not what he would find back home. 

 

***

 

It took a week's journey, multiple horses ridden half to death, and far too little sleep for Yuuri to make it to the border. The route from Sunti was as uneventful as one could hope, but the moment Yuuri stopped in the first Yugashinian village, he knew the peace was over. His people, _their_ people, were in mourning, which Yuuri wished with his entire heart to take part in, but couldn't. He had to move forward, had to push towards the capital, towards his family... or what was left of it.

The wailing of women was loud in the streets, the whispers of men followed him everywhere, and somehow Yuuri knew that it was only a matter of time before the chalice tips over and the bitterness spills. The pitiful voices grew stronger the closer to Kamisunouchi he was. On the day he pushed his horse through the royal palace gates there was already an angry mob outside, demanding retribution for the untimely death of their beloved Empress. For a moment after dismantling, Yuuri felt like his heart had stayed beyond the gates, joined in pain and hatred with the people.

What happened, his mother's death, it was unforgivable. She'd never done anything but good to all her people, she'd been nothing but kind, she never wished for war. And by some unfavourable trick of the fates her last deed had left them on the verge of conflict with the worst of their adversaries. Yuuri shuddered to think of what else the gods might have envisioned for them.

A servant guided him to his sister's side, feet fast and sure, and Yuuri squeezed his arm in thanks before he stepped into his sister's private chamber. He wanted to tell him that everything would be well, yet he couldn't. It wouldn't be well. Nothing, for a long while, would be well. Not for Yugashina. And not for Lesnya, so he swore.

"Mari."

Seeing her was a relief that her face showed in return. They were never overtly expressive with each other, much less others, but it took a single look for them both to embrace. Mari's back was stiff, hard as stone, as if the suppressed anger and fear had turned her into a statue that no doubt soon will be made of her as the new Empress Katsuki.

Yuuri shut his eyes against the itch of tears and swallowed before saying:

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you needed me most."

Mari squeezed him tighter. "Don't apologize for that, idiot brother. You're here now."

She pulled away and looked at him for a long moment. Her lips finally quirked in a small smile that Yuuri returned. It was forced and they both knew it, but it was enough.

"You look like shit," Mari announced.

Yuuri startled into a single bark of laughter. It was easier to smile when he returned:

"You look like shit, too. Don't sound so superior."

She grinned at him, patted his shoulder and returned to the chair she was previously occupying. Yuuri took the other one without prompting. They sat in silence, a comfortable one even despite all the questions that were crowding Yuuri's mind. It's been too long since he'd been home. Too long since he'd seen Mari. Too long since he'd seen his parents... and now–

"How is father fairing?" he asked, voice hushed.

Mari sighed.

"Not good. He's..." She paused, clicked her tongue, and then continued: "He's secluded himself to his chamber and the gardens, and refuses to take part in anything. I know it's hard for him to come to terms with reality and I don't blame him. I can scarcely believe it some days either."

She turned her face to the window. The sorrow was clear in her profile and Yuuri looked away when his heart clenched painfully inside his chest.

"I simply wish to let him grieve at his own pace, that's all," Mari spoke again. "And you. I wish that for you as well."

Yuuri's lips formed a smile, but it did not reach his eyes. "And what about you?"

"I have a war to handle, no time for heartache."

Mari waved a careless hand, a gesture that made Yuuri frown. He leaned forward and caught her hand, which made her look his way. He squeezed, and with a serious face, vowed:

"Then I will be by your side along the way, no matter where it takes us. On the royal blood we share, I so swear."

She squeezed back. And then grinned.

"Take a bath first, little brother. You reek of horse. I will not work with someone who smells worse than my stable boy."

If the events had played out differently, if the circumstances had been not what they were, Yuuri would've stuck his tongue out at her. Empress or no Empress, she was his sister. But keeping in mind all that transpired, he simply smiled back at her.

A bath did sound appealing, indeed, because he truly reeked of horse and while it might have been acceptable on the road, it was far from a perfume any Prince of Yugashina should be using.

Especially when dealing with matters of war and peace.

 

***

 

The missive had arrived 3 days before Yuuri and, after a bath and a dinner, Mari had told him in curt tone how she'd refused to lend ear to the cowardly display of dishonour the Nikiforovs were showing the late Empress by sending a Crow instead of making an appearance in Yugashinian court themselves. Before Yuuri could do anything, before he was even aware, Lesnyan royal family was sent a reply calling them to a meeting that would take place a fortnight from the death of Empress Katsuki. A meeting that would determine future relations between Yugashina and Lesnya, a meeting that King Nikiforov better attends personally or war shall knock on his doorstep at Yugashinian hands thirsty for revenge.

"You did not phrase it like that, did you?" Yuuri asked, having trouble swallowing the wine he was washing dessert with. "We do not actually want war, Mari."

Mari only snorted. "I am not an idiot, brother. Of course I did not put these exact words on paper, but I made it clear to His Majesty that we are not a trifle for him to brush off his sleeve."

"Good," Yuuri nodded. "Do we have actual proof it was Lesnya? Was the assassin captured?"

"No," Mari's face darkened. "He slipped away, but our men had seen the uniform enough to recognize it. We do not have hard proof, but that is why we need to speak with King Nikiforov. It was one of his men, so he either takes responsibility and helps us find him and bring him to justice, or we go to war and take it into our own hands. I see no other choice."

Yuuri stayed silent for a moment, nursing his cup in thought.

"The people want revenge. I've seen it as I rode," he explained to Mari when she looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "They loved mother, but who didn't? They want justice for what happened to her and with the skirmishes and the tension on our Lesnyan border... I don't think a simple beheading of the assassin will be enough."

Mari's lips pursed into a tight line. She knew it as well as he did – the war will happen with or without their influence. It was always the people who were in power, the people who ruled the country, who deposed monarchs in times of dissatisfaction, who rose new leaders up in times of unrest. To keep the throne, and people's love, sometimes all that the ruler could do was predict and pre-emptively strike at what the public would want most.

And what they wanted now was war. But it would be Mari's decision on how and where it starts. Yuuri desperately wished that their mother's death was not the catalyst that caused the bubble of rage to burst.

"We must be prepared for anything," Mari finally decided. "I do not want my first edict to start a war, but if I must do it to uphold the honour of the Katsuki name, I will do it."

She looked directly at Yuuri, hard, unrelenting gaze of the Empress that she was now becoming.

"Will you stand by me, brother?" she asked.

She did not demand obedience, she was simply asking, and Yuuri was certain that if he said no, she would let him go. He slid off his chair and folded himself up on the ground, bowing until his forehead could touch the carpeted ground.

"Whatever you choose to do, my Empress, I am yours to command."

The grin on her face was just on the wrong side of wry when he lifted his face next, but neither of them commented on it, since his words rung with truth. Mari was the Empress, the head of the dragon, the entire Yugashinian Empire, and Yuuri, if allowed, would become her advisor, her sword, her shield, her confidant, but brother was one thing he was not allowed to be. Not anymore.

The Empress stood alone.

 

***

 

A guard of twenty accompanied them to the meeting place: a hill on the very border between their countries, right next to the village their mother had died at, Matsurano. The royal guards were joined by the troops stationed at the watchtowers nearby and in a company of almost fifty men they crossed the border to enter the encampment Lasnyan soldiers had raised.

Mari's gold plated armour turned heads of peasants and soldiers alike, to Yugashinians' cheers and Lasnyans' frowns, in a way it was supposed to. There was hardly anything practical about it: the metal was too light, the plating too thin, the colour instantly painting a target on Mari's back; but such was the role of the Empress – to stand out from the crowd, always. Yuuri's own husk, made of steel, hardened and moulded in fire, was a tried piece of armour. He'd battled in it before, he'd won in it before, and he knew he could trust it with his and Mari's life. It was a far cry from the exquisite piece of metalwork that Mari was strapped in, but Yuuri preferred the comforting feeling of worn leathers to any gallantry the freshly made suit of silver they'd left at home could offer.

Matsurano was a quiet village... or it used to be. They rode in formation through the main street that was filled with people, shouting, cheering, screaming "Long live Empress Katsuki!" and Yuuri wondered if they meant Mari or their mother.

Mari, with a stormy face and a hard set brow, guided her horse straight towards the Lesnyan camp and the people could see it. They did not see a daughter out for vengeance, no. They saw the personification of justice weighing a hammer over the heads of the offenders, ready to strike. And Yuuri could see it to, he could, but what he could also see, what no one else was able to, was the way Mari's hand shook slightly as she held the reins in her pale, pale fingers.

Pushing the horses faster, they left the village and circled around the watchtower to the sound of horns honouring Mari's presence before they set out for the hill. Lesnyan tents were white, the colour of death, and Yuuri eyed them warily. There would be no deaths yet, not that day, but the omen of what was to come was clear as the sky above their heads. A death was unavoidable, but it would depend on King Nikiforov if it ends there... or if it starts there.

Flanked by guards, they finally stepped onto the top of the hill.

 

***

 

If there was one thing that Prince Victor hated more than looking after his royal cousin it would be political negotiations. He was well endowed with intelligence, blessed with a pleasant physique and personal charm, and did not believe in the need of meeting face to face for every frivolous matter, despite the ease with which he achieved things by using his smile as the weapon of choice. He, as the other side surely must be, was far too busy to indulge in tea parties on a whim.

So when his father had insisted he accompanied him to a meeting with the Yugashinian Empress, he naturally refused. Hence, a week later, he'd found himself lounging in an tent, waiting for said Empress to make her grand appearance. At least he prayed it to be grand, something to pass the boredom of having been dragged away from the war council on the Turlan front that was already proving to be far more amusing than this field trip.

"How long are they going to make us wait?" Victor sighed.

It was after noon on the agreed day and there was no sign of Her Imperial Highness anywhere. Victor was _so_ bored.

"Go take charge of the vanguard then," his father said, no care in his voice. "I'm sure that will provide some amusement, if not to you then to our soldiers."

Victor harrumphed disagreeably, but stood nonetheless.

"I might just," he said as he moved around the large mahogany table they had brought from the very capitol simply because his father had insisted on 'showing these Yugashinian bastards who it is exactly they are engaging in a spittle with'.

Victor pulled the flap of the tent open and stepped outside just as Yugashinian horns started blowing from the nearby watchtower. The camp that was otherwise quiet until then bustled to life as men started running around in an organized panic. Shortly after the hum of horns had ceased, the vanguard returned to the camp.

"The envoy is on the way up, Your Highness." The commander jumped off his horse right before Victor, letting the others take it away. "Fifty men strong, maybe more. They should be here within minutes."

Victor nodded. "Report to the King. I'll greet them myself."

The commander bowed and moved past Victor, inside the tent. Once he had, Victor could see the cloud of dust rising on the horizon – a clear sign of the approach of the Empress.

Victor had never met or even heard much of Mari Katsuki, she was always keeping on the quiet side. Away from the balls, away from fanfare. Hiroko Katsuki, her mother, was a kind and loving woman, or so she seemed to present herself, and Victor wondered if Mari's lack of grandeur was in some way a reflection of that. Maybe she was shy? Maybe she detested her position the way Victor was growing to detest his? Maybe... maybe they could find a common tongue because of that and avoid the war that Lesnya had no resources to support. If Mari Katsuki was anything like her mother, maybe that would be possible.

He watched the entry to the camp with rapt attention as the sound of hooves hitting the ground grew louder. The clacking of armour was a familiar sound and did not bode well for their negotiations: if they were dressed for war, they would be less inclined to listen to reason. Victor squashed the feelings of unease while the royal guard hurried to take their places around him and the tent.

"Please, do not do anything stupid, Your Highness," Georgi said, hand resting on the hilt of his sword in a relaxed manner, which Victor knew could change in a blink of an eye.

They were friends, for more time that Victor had wished to be, and as such he did not take any offence to the words. He simply put on a smile.

"Do I ever?"

Georgi's pained sigh was drowned in the sound of horns again – this time their own, announcing the first riders to breach the camp line.

They flowed in like a mountain river, smooth but violent, and tore through the main lane. The horses were strong, Victor could tell a good breed when he saw one. They did not seem to have as much mass as their Lesnyanian breed, but that would come with the difference in terrain: while Lesnya was more mountainy, Yugashina's flats allowed the lean silhouettes to reach the highest of speeds. Which they clearly were showing off now.

Victor's lips quirked in amusement as another rider sped past him. It took maybe a minute longer before he finally was able to spot the guest they had all been waiting for. The young Empress rode into the camp like a sun put on the back of a horse, blinding and grand, and Victor's eyes lit up at that. She had donned a golden armour and a frown that would petrify any man of great courage if directed at him.

The horses slowed as the Empress made her way through the camp and finally stopped where Victor stood. Her gaze measured the men surrounding him and only then did it rest on Victor himself.

Ah, Victor thought, she was definitely not shy. From atop her horse, Empress Katsuki glared like the best of warriors on a field of battle, scowled like the worst of the sailors during a squall, and Victor would have bet his arm that she would curse like one as well, if her station had allowed for it. He smiled to himself and then with a bigger smile he walked past the line of his men to greet her properly.

"Welcome, Empress Katsuki."

He opened up his arms to show he was not a threat and planned to offer Her Imperial Highness his hand in coming down, but the moment he took a step closer a rider to the left pushed his horse in between them. Cut off from the Empress, Victor couldn't help it when his eyes rested on the man who stepped in his way in such a rude manner. He was plain and uninteresting, even if his armour was a little better make than some foot soldier's.

"My, what manners," Victor smiled in that subtly snub way he knew infuriated others and allowed his gaze to pass him by with no remorse as he focused on the Empress again. "Are all your men this hot-blooded, Your Imperial Highness?"

She said something to her men, her voice rough and gritty enough to be nothing but an order, and the one blocking Victor's path turned to look at her. Some unspoken conversation seemed to pass between the two, because the man's shoulders slumped and The Empress' lips quirked up as if she was amused when he reluctantly pulled his horse back.

"I do not believe we've met before, Prince Victor," she spoke to him next, pushing her steed forwards. To Victor's surprise she already seemed to know him, which startled a smile of surprise from him. "But I have heard of you. I will warn you that you should keep your distance. After what happened to the previous Empress my men are slightly... _overeager_ to protect me."

"Understandable," Victor nodded his assent. "Allow me to say, though, that neither now nor then, Lesnya did not wish you harm."

The Empress looked at him for a long moment, before she said: "We shall see about that."

Without a word more, Victor waited while she stepped down from her horse with the help of the same man. They seemed to have a sort of camaraderie that Victor had shared with none of his personal guards. Friends, he thought while looking at the hand the man had offered and the Empress took readily. Maybe lovers, he ventured a guess when her stone-like face eased with a tiny smile when the man had spoken something to her in a quiet voice. Definitely lovers, he decided, since the man had followed them into the tent, flanking her side while their other guards filtered in afterwards.

Before Victor could take another look at him – because surely he must have missed something in his appraisal, someone like Empress Katsuki couldn't have picked just anyone to be the holder of her heart, could she? – his father had beckoned him over with a hand, standing up to greet their guests properly once they had reached the table.

"Empress Katsuki," the King greeted her, inclining his head slightly.

She returned the gesture, even if her eyes were cold and hard like the ice that in winter time covered the roofs of the Royal Palace in Vidnokutsk. "King Nikiforov."

"We were sorry to hear that your royal father could not have made it. Is he well?" the King continued, unperturbed. His concern was a front and Victor knew it. The Empress seemed to as well.

"As well as one might be, considering," she replied curtly.

"It is truly a tragedy what had come to happen. We were greatly saddened to get the news of Empress Hiroko's passing. Please, sit," The King gestured to the opposite side of the table, "and let us talk more."

The Empress' gaze swept over the expanse of mahogany, the polished wood, the silver leaves and crests carving out of it, as if it was nothing but a trifle. And it was, they all knew it was a simple show in power, which Empress Katsuki disregarded with a grace of someone who had lived their life in such and better luxuries. Her eyes had finally settled on a lone throne-like chair that matched the other two Victor and his father were using. She pursed her lips, and then said:

"We will need another chair."

Victor noticed the surprise in his father's usually emotionless visage, but the King recovered fast and motioned for one of their guards to bring what was asked. Only when the chair was set next to the one meant for her, the Empress moved to sit. She pulled the golden helmet off her head, letting her short hair frame her face. Like that, she looked a little more human, a little more Victor's age.

She sat down first, resting the helmet on the table. The King took his place next, and Victor waited before he moved to his own chair as well.

"Yuuri, sit with us," the Empress touched the arm of the empty chair.

With a clunk of steel, the man that Victor had deemed to be Her Imperial Highness' lover took his helmet off, pushed his hair out of his eyes and sunk down into the chair like this was where he belonged. His name was familiar, too familiar not to recognize it, and Victor swallowed the embarrassment at the mistake he'd made when he assumed he was simply a sidekick. He meet the eyes of the Prince Katsuki for the first time and wished he could take back the words he'd spoken to him before.

Because the gaze that was trained on him was burning hot like the sands of the Turlan deserts and, despite his earlier blunder, for the first time since he was ordered to come, Prince Victor wanted to be nowhere else but here.

 

***

 

"Let's talk then," Mari said first, leaning back in her chair to train her cold eyes on King Nikiforov. "Maybe you'd like to start by explaining to us how come one of your soldiers had snuck into our mother's inn and slit her throat in her sleep?"

Yuuri remained quiet against the vision of their mother's round, kind face covered in blood. He focused his attention on observing the Lesnyans. The King was unarmed, from what he'd seen when they entered the tent, and the Prince was only carrying a short sword that could not be longer than a dagger. The true danger would come from the guards behind them, five in number, against the three Yuuri had brought with him. He'd been naive. With him they made four, which still proved to be a disadvantage, but, if needed, Yuuri would lay his life as the fifth if it would serve to protect Mari from harm.

"It saddens us that you would think we had anything to do with such an underhanded and cowardly deed," King Nikiforov said and Yuuri's eyes snapped to him when he realized it was not exactly a denial of the intent to kill... rather a denial of the way it had been done. "We held the late Empress in great regard, so we can assure you we had no hand in her passing. May she rest in peace."

"I would hardly call that peace when her murderer is still at large and the one who orchestrated it spews nothing but lies."

Mari shifted. The armour clunked. She locked her fingers together. A menacing picture of the dragon princess that was measuring how far the pray will run before she snatches it in her jaws.

"If it is as you say, Your Majesty, and you had no wish for her death, then tell me: why was a man in Lesnyan uniform, a man wearing _your_ colours, running away from the room where our mother was still heaving her last breaths? What was he doing on our land? Why was he running? If that is not the admission of guilt, then please, bring him forth so he can explain in his own words what it was exactly that was chasing after his heels that night."

"We're afraid that is simply not possible, Your Imperial Highness."

The King's voice lilted at the title as if he wished to slight Mari without the use of words. He managed it. Yuuri did not need to turn around to feel their loyal Yugashinians stiffen in outrage.

"You see," King Nikiforov continued. "We have not given the order and, despite what rumours there might be about discipline in Lesnyan troops, our men are good soldiers who listen to their monarch. For one of them to sneak out of the camp, in the middle of the night, is unthinkable."

The King shook his head as if he truly could not imagine a greater travesty. Yuuri's jaw clenched tightly. He forced his gaze away, choosing to look at the Prince instead, only to find that the bright blue eyes had been watching him all along.

"Moreover, what proof do we have that whoever told you that story was speaking the truth?" King Nikiforov waved a hand. "Maybe it was someone on your end that took matters in their own hands. We hear there is some... discontent amongst your people. That sounds like a far more plausible explanation than some nameless soldier from our army."

Sitting next to Mari, Yuuri was very aware of the tremble of her hands, a weakness which she hid expertly out of the line of sight of the Lesnyans, tucked under the table. He could not blame her for it, though. Irritation burned through his blood and rung in his ears with every word that was coming out of the King's mouth, and oh, he had many to give. Many, many grand words, great gestures of _nothing_ , as they brought nothing, explained nothing, were nothing but pleasantries and veiled insults. Yuuri's spine steeled with hard-forged anger, sturdy and harsh and unmelting, as he stared right into Prince Victor's blue eyes because he was truly unable to look at the King and remain seated.

"Lord Senzou has been a friend of our family for years," Mari said, not a waver in her voice. Yuuri admired her for it all the more so. "If he had told me that a firebird had come down from the sky to claim mother's life, I would have believed him. He has our trust, and we are certain of his loyalty. Much more than I am certain of the truth in your words, Your Majesty."

She leaned forward, face hard and cold as a stone. "There are three ways this matter can be resolved. One, you search for the man yourself, which is not the best choice for us, since you seem to love wasting time on frivolities. Two, we search for him ourselves with your permission and blessing. Or three. Since you speak of dissatisfaction among my people, you must be aware of what that entails."

When the King only stared at her, uttering nothing, she finished the thought that everyone in the room was thinking:

"War."

No one spoke for a long moment. Mari and the King were measuring each other across the table, testing the resolve of the words that had just been spoken. It was just a threat for now, but one that Yuuri knew Mari would follow through. With a heavy heart, but she would not let down their mother and their people. That was why they were following her.

"There is no need for threats, Your Imperial Highness," the Prince took voice for the first time since they entered the tent. His face was adorned with a smile, a sunny, charming thing that would fit more in a ballroom than here. "We, just like you, would love nothing more than to solve this matter. It is just as much a strike on our good name if you go around telling people our soldiers are rambunctious enough to kill other rulers on a whim, so if there is anything we could do to help, other than, of course, allowing you free access to our troops and military secrets, we'd be happy to offer it to you."

"My," Mari breathed. "And here I thought that your silence was a sign of your intelligence, Prince Victor, but then you open your mouth and in one breath insult me _and_ spit on our mother's not yet wind-brushed grave. How wrong I was to think there was more behind your looks."

Even surprise had a charming tilt to the Prince's head. Yuuri couldn't keep his lips from twitching as he fought to hold off a smile when Prince Victor blinked and opened his mouth, only to be halted by his father's lifted hand.

"Let us not resort to insults," the King said magnanimously, disregarding the fact that it was Lesnya who began it. "However, what my son has so clumsily put into words stands. We cannot allow you to have such unsupervised access to our military, we're certain you understand." He smiled thinly in a way that was clear it was not a smile meant to appease the tension that was heavy in the room. "Instead, we can agree to search for the possible murderer ourselves. Matters like that take time, though, and if you cannot give us a name or the squadron the soldier belongs to, we're afraid it might be long months before any of this is resolved."

Mari scoffed. "In other words, you offer us nothing but words. Once again."

Before King Nikiforov could answer, Mari took a deep breath and forged on with a resolution and determination that made Yuuri's gaze slip from the Lesnyans and focus on her. There was pride in her shoulders and justice in the way she held her head high, and now, more than ever, Yuuri was glad to be following her.

"I do not want your words, Your Majesty, nor do I need your permission to find the man that had murdered our mother. The choices I gave you were a courtesy that I now see you do not deserve."

"Hold your tongue, Princess Katsuki," King Nikiforov warned, an angry frown curling around his lips at the slight, "lest you say a word too many."

Mari pinned him with a glare that even the fiercest of warriors from their kingdom trembled under.

"It's _Empress_ Katsuki," she said in a hard, gritty voice as if speaking that brought her pain. And Yuuri could tell it did, because it hurt him just as much. "By your doing, none the less. If you continue to insist that Lesnya had nothing to do with this matter, then that will mean only one thing: you're harbouring a criminal and are just as guilty of his crime. And that means that soon Yugashinian troops will be taking up arms against you."

The King said naught to that, choosing to point vaguely towards Yuuri who had yet to open his mouth.

"You should take example of your brother, then, Empress," he said. "He is far calmer than you. Maybe it is he who should lead the negotiations? We are sure that between us we would be able to find peace."

Mari froze for one terrifying second while they both grasped at what the King was insinuating – an insult to the very tradition of female rulers in Yugashina. Before she could lose the reins of her terrible anger, a sign of which Yuuri could already see in the tick of a muscle on her cheek, Yuuri rested a hand on her arm. In silent support and a warning alike, for they could not allow themselves to be trading taunts, not at this time.

"Calm?" Yuuri finally spoke. His voice, indeed, was calm, but that was a fragile peace, one that was easily broken. "I assure you, Your Majesty, that I am not. In fact, I remain silent in an effort to forcibly keep myself from leaping over this very table and strangling the life out of you both with my bare hands."

The silence reigned for just a moment, filled with tension. And then, akin to a cherry blossom petal falling from its branch, the metallic clank of Lesnyan soldiers reaching for the hilts of their swords filled the air, quickly followed by their own guards pulling their blades out. Yuuri lifted his hand to halt them all, his gaze directly locked with the King's.

"Alas, I resist the temptation," he continued. "We do not wish for war."

The King remained silent as he regarded Yuuri with something akin to interest, yet Yuuri hoped not. The anger in his eyes was encompassing and in the event of the negotiations failing, which was more possible by the minute, it was infinitely better to be underestimated. Like he always was.

It was the Prince who spoke next, leaning against the table, honest and open as if to fix his earlier blunder.

"We do not wish for one, either, Prince Katsuki, Empress," he said and something in his voice compelled Yuuri to believe him. Yet, he could not. This was a matter far too important to simply take a word of a stranger, a possible instigator of the murder of their flesh and blood, for it.

"Then I suggest you start acting like it, Your Highness," Yuuri returned, rising from his place. "Let us end this talk here. We've come a long way today, but we did not do that to exchange empty words with you. Further trade of insults can continue tomorrow... or, if you come to your senses in time, we can speak of reparations. Good tidings, King and Prince Nikiforov."

Helping Mari up, they left the tent hand in hand, their soldiers flanking them on all sides.

It did not bode well for them, the way this day had ended. But still, Yuuri clung onto hope, because hope was the only thing there was left. And if war was what was written in the stars for Yugashina, then hope would be gone soon as well. For now, though... For now, he hoped.

 


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the art you can find in this chapter belongs to the amazing [nadia](http://yukiyuna.tumblr.com/)! pls check out her art on her tumblr as well [@yukiyuna](http://yukiyuna.tumblr.com/post/166818992213/then-let-us-make-it-happen-he-said-yuuri-could)!!

 

**Chapter II**

 

 

"I need some air," Victor said, leaving before his father could even give his permission.

It was no surprise that both of them were in fairly bad moods. The King, because the possibility of war was well on the horizon and more so, because an upstart Empress had called his lies to light, threatened and mocked him. And Victor, who despite his intentions, had made a right fool out of himself time and time again. The only thing that had kept them from returning to Vidnokutsk, offended, was the fact that the Yugashinians got just as many frustrations to deal with as they had. After all, fair was only fair.

Victor kicked his heel into the grassy hill.

"This is exactly what has brought you down, moron," he murmured to himself.

And it was. If Victor had been of a different mindset, if he did not try to get them tit for tat, but truly listened and ventured to understand and help, maybe they wouldn't have angered the Prince whose eyes had wished them bodily harm as he stared them down across the table by the end of the meeting.

"Are you well, my Prince?"

Georgi stepped up to him from where he stood guard before his father's tent.

"No," Victor replied, lips a thin line. "If everything was well, we wouldn't be here, Zhora."

Georgi inclined his head and fell into step behind Victor as they walked through the camp.

"No, I should think not," he agreed. "The negotiations did not go as planned, we could all see it on the Yugashinans' faces. Are we heading for war?"

Stiff-shouldered, Victor stayed silent. That seemed to be enough of an answer.

"I see," Georgi said. "Do you think... The line between love and hate is a thin one, luckily for us or not. In the past, remember the history books, we used to have unparalleled camaraderie. We used to die alongside each other, not against the other. Do you believe it is possible for us to ever see eye to eye again? Like we used to?"

"I don't know, old friend," Victor sighed. "As of now it is impossible, but maybe one day, somewhere in the distant future, our children or grandchildren will be able to travel across these lands without fear. The fate of the world is ever-changing, so it would not surprise me if such a thing came to be."

Georgi hummed. "I would like to see that."

"Me as well," Victor smiled a little, looking through the empty space between the tents toward where the Yugashinian camp has spread at the foot of the watchtower. "Me as well."

They stood there for a moment longer while the nightly wind picked up and fruitlessly battled to bring down their tents. Something about what Georgi said did not give Victor peace as he looked at the far away torch lights that gave view to Yugashinian crest embroidered into the green canvas.

Their nations had been friends, once upon a time. They had well established trade routes, festivals that royalty from both countries attended, and life was more vibrant on the border than it was deep in the heart of their lands. It was a time of peace, prosperity and growth. And then Empress Shitou fell in love and kidnapped Crown Prince Yegor. It caused an uproar among the people of Lesnya, who rose up in arms to take their future king back. The prince had died, the Empress perished soon afterwards, and the relations between Lesnya and Yugashina changed. Some legends said Shitou had died of a broken heart, but while it was a romantic notion that some, like Victor and Georgi, found appealing, the logic pointed towards suicide or assassination that would be the only choice that could appease the vengeful calls from the Lesnyans.

Since then, not much has changed. Lesnyans always believed Yugashinians to be ready to stab them in the back, to be false and deceitful. Victor did not know what they believed Lesnyans to be, but the glares he received from Prince Katsuki could not have all been caused by his own blunders. If only they could see past that centuries old hatred, past the beliefs that were ingrained in their heads since they were wee small...

Victor smiled sadly to himself, knowing it was an impossible thing to ask.

"You should retire for the night," he told Georgi finally. "Tomorrow will be another long day."

"Does that not sound like an advice you should take yourself?" Georgi asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I cannot sleep while you're out here unprotected."

"Alright, alright," Victor agreed, turning away from the Yugashinian camp. "Let's turn in. We can hate our neighbours during daylight as well."

The line between love and hate, Georgi said. If only they could blur the edges of it, would it blend into one? Would hate turn into love? If they could correct their early mistakes, would it...?

Victor looked over his shoulder and in the flickering flames of the torches saw the heat of Prince Katsuki's eyes. If they could mend what Empress Shitou broke, if they could come together to face the bloodied past for the sake of their future...

"Zhora," Victor called and Georgi paused a few paces behind. "Get our horses."

When Victor looked at him there was a confused wrinkle between Georgi's eyebrows, but he simply sighed at Victor's request and then nodded.

"Where are we going?"

"To speak with Prince Katsuki."

Georgi's eyes closed briefly, like they always did when he listened to another stupid idea that Victor was full of. "Are you sure you've thought this through? Maybe we should wait till morning, especially after his mother's demise..."

"That's why," Victor said. "We need to change. Battle our fears head on."

"And what if they battle us instead?" Georgi asked. "They could kill you for trespassing and they'd be in the right to do so. That would hardly help settle the conflict."

Victor sent him a smile. "Exactly. They could. And we just have to trust they won't. If they see trust from us, they will respond alike, don't you think?"

"With no offence, Your Highness, that's one of the most ridiculous things I've heard you say. And I've heard a lot."

"Do you trust me, Zhora?" Victor asked, turning his gaze to him.

Georgi sighed once more, and then with a small smile bowed his head. "With my life, my Prince."

Resting a hand on his shoulder, Victor squeezed it reassuringly. He knew that at times he demanded a lot from his friends and servants alike, but when it mattered most, they always proved he could trust in them as much as they trusted him to lead them.

"Then bring the horses," Victor ordered. "We have a prince to see about a wedding."

 

***

 

"If as much as a mouse slips in or out, I want to know about it," Yuuri told the guards cordoning off the tent where Mari was staying. The men stood straight and proud, and Yuuri nodded his approval before he walked away towards his own tent.

The sky was dark already, sprinkled with dots of stars as if the godly painter shook off his brush across its expanse. The camp was alit with torches, fire pits and lamps. There was not a shadow around to hide in. Soldiers stood watch at every corner, taking their roles far more seriously since their mother's death. Yuuri could breathe a little easier after he'd inspected everything, but the tightness around his lungs did not disappear fully even then.

He'd made his way to his own tent, which was just as heavily guarded. One of the men pulled back the flap for him and Yuuri stepped through. The inside was bare, but he did not mind it. He wasn't planning to sleep anyway.

"Your Highness."

Yuuri's personal attendant stepped inside, bringing a basin of water to wash. Another one had brought a plate of food, which they both set on the bare table in the centre of the tent. Before Yuuri had said anything, the servants have stepped up to him and reached for the leather straps that were holding his armour close to his body. In silence, Yuuri allowed them to work, while his own mind wandered.

The negotiations were a disaster. The King did not want to hear them out, clearly. Every word they'd said had fallen to deaf ears and Yuuri could feel the growing frustration of their men. And Mari's as well. He stamped at his own, swallowing it down as best as he could, and yet even that was not enough because by the end of it, he allowed his mouth to ran free. Alas, he could not, in good conscience, tolerate any further insults to their mother and his sister, the Empress. Yuuri was not one to pick fights or challenge others, he would rather retreat, regroup, and redouble his efforts to communicate, which was what he had done then as well, but...

He heaved a sigh when the breastplate was pulled off his chest. Sadly, the weight that pressed down against his heart did not disappear with it. The only thing that could elevate it was truth, justice and peace. And, it so seemed, all of these were still a far way off.

When the last piece of armour was lifted, Yuuri dismissed the servants. He splashed some water onto his face and washed his neck with a wet cloth, a small relief after the entire day spent in harsh steel. Tomorrow they will have to curb their tempers, swallow their pride and try, at least try, to make the Nikiforovs listen. It would be a tough ordeal, Yuuri knew. The King was aged and likely disregarded them both because of their age, but the Prince...

Yuuri swallowed through the bitter taste in his mouth. Prince Victor had dismissed him that afternoon as easily as one would an ant on the side of the road. Like he was nothing. Like he was not worthy of even a glance. Maybe he wasn't, not to someone like him, but Yuuri would be lying if he claimed that his pride hadn't been hurt. But even slighted like that, he was still in control of his temper until the insults turned to Mari and their mother. That, he could not stand. He simply hoped that what he'd said in the heat of the moment will be enough to make the Lesnyans consider a change in their conduct, because surely they did not wish for war either.

A glance towards the food made Yuuri immediately turn away. He was far from hungry. Instead, he took the haori left out for him by the servants, put it on and hid a dagger in one of the sleeves as a precaution, before he left the tent. The air was stagnant inside, too hot to breathe, too still to sleep, and Yuuri couldn't sit in place. There was unspent energy buzzing in his limbs, one that called for a walk or a good spar, but the hour was late and the clash of swords would only alert people to danger, which they all would rather avoid.

Stepping past the two guards, Yuuri dismissed them as well. He did not need anyone to breathe down his neck. Especially when the Lesnyan camp was already doing a fine job of it. In the middle of their own there was no danger to him, sans a stray arrow, but of that the outpost guards would have long since alerted them, so all was as well as should be.

Yuuri allowed his feet to carry him, walking around the tents, checking that all guards where awake and alert. They did not bow when he passed and he was proud of their training. The guard duty was, after all, the most important task they could have been entrusted with.

The Matsurano watchtower loomed over the camp, hiding it from the face of the moon. It cast shadows, long and gnarly, around the premise and sometimes, out of the corner of the eye, Yuuri would swear he saw them move. If they did, it could have only been the wind that has been tugging on his sleeves since the moment he'd left his tent. For a single moment, Yuuri allowed himself to close his eyes and feel the harsh caress of it on his tired face. He took a deep breath, sucking it into his lungs along with the scent for burning wood, metal and oil, and horse coming from everywhere.

If tomorrow brought not a change, that would be the smell he would bathe in for the next months. Maybe years, depending on how long he would live in a world of war.

Yuuri opened his eyes, and at the right moment, too, because the fire pit behind his back cracked to life with a powerful flame when the wind moved the logs inside it and the light that came from it drew a crawling shadow right next to Yuuri's own. He turned, hand already going for the concealed dagger, but he was too slow. A large hand closed around his mouth, while another arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him into the night behind the nearest tent, away from anyone's eye.

Had Yuuri not been a Prince, had there not been attempts at his life staged before, he would have gone stiff in fear, or surprise, maybe both. But even when his body remembered to be scared, it also did remember the years of training he had undergone for situations just like that. His mind was quick to assess his defences and instantly he knew that his attacker had committed one unforgiving mistake – he'd allowed Yuuri's hands to remain free.

With no hesitation, Yuuri stepped his heel hard into the ground, turning his entire body around. He used the force of motion to draw the dagger from its sheath and swung his arm. He was aiming straight for the neck, a sure kill once it hit.

And it would have, if in one terrifying second the moon did not peek from behind the watchtower and bathed the head of his attacker in a silver halo.

In sheer reflex of muscle memory, with no time to think, Yuuri turned his slash upwards. It was only thanks to that and Prince Victor's quick doge that the blade had barely snatched at the flesh high atop his cheek and nowhere else. With his arm still lifted, Yuuri breathed a deep breath as blood rushed down from his head, causing his vision to spin suddenly.

"I could've killed you," he hissed, feeling his heartbeat hammer in his chest. " _You moron_. Do you truly wish to die?"

Taking a deep breath to calm his erratic pulse, Yuuri took in the shock in Prince Victor's wide eyes.

"Is this your way of repenting for Empress Hiroko's death?" Yuuri straightened, the simmer of anger steeling his spine. "Because I will not have a hand in starting this war, Your Highness."

He returned the dagger to its hidden place, ready to turn around and leave as fast as he could, but the shock on the Lesnyan Prince's face stopped him. He was holding a hand to his cheek and in the pale moonlight his face looked ghostly white, scared.

It was entirely the Prince's fault. Yuuri should not be accepting responsibility for hurting someone who attacked him in the middle of his camp, in the _middle of the night_. But Yuuri's heart was a soft one, softer than it should be, and instead of walking away he stood there and asked:

"Is it deep?"

Prince Victor seemed to startle at his concern. Their eyes met and for a breath there Yuuri had thought he'd seen admiration in the sky-blue gaze, but the moon had hidden behind the tower again and it disappeared. Instead, Prince Victor smiled.

"I've had worse," he said. "I apologize for ambushing you this way. I merely want to speak with you. Forgive me for any upset I might have caused, but the matter is crucial and I did not know a better way of approaching you."

Yuuri's mouth parted, incredulous. "And this matter could not have waited till the morn?"

"Not if what I have planned has a chance to succeed," the Prince replied, confident and daring.

Having almost caused the start of the war they were all trying to avoid by slashing open the Lesnyan Prince's neck after he'd been sneaked up on and dragged away into the shadows, Yuuri watched the handsome face of Prince Victor turn serious as the blood seeping from the gash on his cheek remained in his disregard.

"Will you lend me your ear, Prince Yuuri?" the man asked.

And Yuuri knew that for the good of their countries, he had little to no choice but to comply. So he had.

 

***

 

Without the armour Prince Katsuki looked far less intimidating, was Victor's first thought when he caught the man strolling the edge of the camp. Emboldened, Victor sneaked up on the unsuspecting Prince and forcibly pulled him into the shadow of one of the big tents that hid them both from view well enough to allow them the privacy of conversation. What Victor did not account for, however, was the fact that armour or no armour, Prince Yuuri was _a prince_. And he knew how to handle himself when attacked, which the gash on Victor's cheek, thankfully the only one, stood testament to.

For a moment, as the Prince measured him with a thick glare, Victor believed his chance at discussion gone. The words spoken were harsh and angry. Had it been anyone else, they would've been punished for addressing him that way, but looking at Prince Yuuri now Victor could not seem to form any defence.

He _was_ a moron who didn't think this plan through. He definitely did not wish to die, but it was true that Yuuri could've killed him. He still could do so, if he wished. He was in his right. Yet, surprising Victor once again, he did nothing of the kind.

He pocketed his dagger and then, careful, but kind, asked:

"Is it deep?"

And Victor knew he made the right choice to come here.

"I've had worse," he said, unable to keep a smile off his face.

He let his hand fall from where he was holding it up to his cheek and straightened up a little. What he was about to say demanded at least a pretence of formality. Even in such circumstances as they have found themselves in.

"I apologize for ambushing you this way," he started. "I merely want to speak with you. Forgive me for any upset I might have caused, but the matter is crucial and I did not know a better way of approaching you."

"And this matter could not have waited till the morn?" Prince Yuuri asked, sceptic and still wary of him for which Victor could not have blamed him.

"Not if what I have planned has a chance to succeed."

When he had left their camp he still did not fully believe in it, he still had doubts and reservations, but they were all falling like autumn leaves. Prince Yuuri's kindness blew them away, replaced them with hope that Victor wished to share with him as soon as possible.

"Will you lend me your ear, Prince Yuuri?" he asked.

For a fleeting moment Prince Yuuri looked tired and worn, but it was gone before Victor could really tell if it was real or just a play of shadows. The same eyes that Victor remembered burning into him during the meeting gazed into his now as well, an equal to equal.

"You have it," the Prince finally allowed. "Speak your piece."

"You must be aware of the military actions we have undertaken against Turlan," Victor began. "Another front, against Yugashina, which is our longest border, would be too much for the Crown to handle. The people's complaints would most likely double. We cannot allow that."

"What do you want me to say, Your Highness?" Prince Yuuri asked, cold. "If that time comes, it would be only thanks to your stubborn nature. We have offered you a solution. It is your choice if you take it or not."

"A solution that is not acceptable." Victor shook his head.

The Yugashinian Prince opened his mouth to repeat himself, no doubt, but Victor lifted his hand and he halted.

"I believe that I have found a better solution, though," Victor said. Before Prince Yuuri could ask, he explained: "To benefit, or simply not lose anything, we need an agreement powerful enough to be honoured by both of our peoples. We need something that will be unshakable in anyone's mind. A kind of treaty that cannot be broken, unless by death."

"A treaty will not appease any Yugashinian heart after our Empress had died at your hands," Prince Yuuri replied. "We have a treaty of non-aggression now, don't we? And look at us, Your Highness. If even our rulers cannot be in the same room without trading insults, how can simple people follow it?"

Eager, Victor took a step forward. "That's exactly it! The example needs to come from the highest chain of command, from my King and your Empress. They need to join hands and present a united front for the people to see."

"And how do you propose we make that happen?" There was only bitter dissatisfaction in Prince Yuuri's voice, but Victor could see the underlying mockery in his eyes. "You were there, in the meeting. You've seen how possible that is, first hand."

"I was speaking more abstractly, forgive me," Victor smiled. "What I had in mind was–"

Somewhere behind the Prince's back a shadow of a silhouette crept in as the clank of an armour and heavy steps of a guard neared to where they stood. Victor's eyes widened. He had no time to react otherwise, because Prince Yuuri took his arm and dived behind the next corner. They waited until the sound of the guard passing faded and only then did the Prince release Victor from his hold.

"You were saying?" he asked, eyebrow lifted.

"Marriage," Victor said plainly.

Prince Yuuri's eyes widened. "What?"

"Marriage," Victor repeated. "An alliance that cannot be broken. A sacred vow that both our rulers would have to accept. The only thing our people would honour and respect. If we stand together."

"That can't– it won't– _no_ ," Prince Yuuri breathed, flinching a step away from Victor. "You're telling me that first you kill our Empress, our mother, and then you expect to marry into our family _just like that_?"

He straightened up and looked at Victor akin to the time they first locked gazes that afternoon.

"I am afraid we will have to decline your offer, Prince Nikiforov."  

"Please, call me Victor," Victor said, reaching out a hand to stop Prince Yuuri from walking away. It fell to his side uselessly when he realized that despite his words, the Yugashinian Prince still had not moved. "And let me explain it fully before you make your decision, Your Highness."

"What is there to explain?" Prince Yuuri's mouth had settled into a thin line. "You want to marry our Empress and have access to our country without suffering the consequences for the incident that sparked this entire conflict. That will not be happening as long as I live and breathe, Prince _Victor_."

Victor sighed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy to convince Yugashinians to discard their hatred. But even if Prince Yuuri had declined him in the end, Victor at least had to tell him everything of what he had planned.

"We will hunt down the man responsible for your mother's death, Prince Yuuri," he said. "Even if I have to do it myself, I promise you on my name, as the Crown Prince of Lesnya, that I will do what I can to bring him to justice. As I've said before, however, that will take time. Time, which we currently don't have, you are aware. Before we can deal with that, we first must appease the people who thirst for conflict. If war breaks out, a single man's death will not matter anymore and neither of us will get what we want."

Prince Yuuri remained silent, weighing his words with a serious face. Victor knew he could be reasoned with. He knew there was hope that Prince Yuuri would see the truth in what he'd spoken and would agree to help him convince Empress Katsuki. This was the only way for Lesnya and Yugashina to avoid conflict.

"Very well, I will amuse this idea further," Prince Yuuri finally decided. "You're offering a marriage between our Empress and, who exactly? Yourself, I believe? The King is married already, after all, and no one of lower birth would be an equal match."

"I would be the most logical choice," Victor nodded. "As a Crown Prince my future as the next king is assured, so our standing would be the same."

"And your father will allow you to rule from Yugashina?" the Prince asked. "I somehow find that hard to believe."

Victor blinked, surprised. "Why would I need to rule from Yugashina?"

The same surprise was mirrored on Prince Yuuri's face when he replied with, "Where else do you expect to live?"

"In Lesnya, of course. The King is expected to take residence in capitol. It's been that way for centuries," Victor explained.

"Ah." Prince Yuuri's face changed. A corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. "That will not be possible then, Your Highness. The Emperor must be at the Empress' side, always. If you wish to marry Her Imperial Highness, you will need to move to Kamisunouchi permanently."

Victor looked at the Prince with growing shock. He'd heard of the unprecedented customs in their country, ones that put women in higher positions of power than men, but until now he did not know exactly how far they reached.

Prince Yuuri was still speaking: "I am not aware of what happens to your titles, if you'd be able to keep them or simply take the Emperor as your only one, but if you are willing to go through with this, we will ask the former Emperor."

Slightly dazed, Victor shook his head.

"That cannot happen then," he said. "I am an only child. There is no one else to pass on the title of Crown Prince to, it has to be me." He lifted a hand to touch his lips, so deep in thought he did not catch the sigh that Prince Yuuri released. "Does... does that mean it was all for nothing?"

"It was a good plan," the Prince admitted. "I was reluctant to accept it, but, truthfully, it had a chance of working. I'd consider anything that would allow us to keep the peace, but our cultures are too different for what you propose. For better or for worse."

"Isn't there," Victor tried again, "isn't there someone else? My cousin, Prince Plisetsky. He's young, barely fifteen, but should need arise–"

"No offence, Your Highness, but a cousin isn't good enough," Prince Yuuri cut him off. "If you had a younger brother or a sister then maybe it could work. As of now..."

He needed not finish. Victor understood that. There was nothing they could do except admit that, however brilliant the idea might have been, it just wasn't written in the stars for their nations. If only Victor had a brother. Or a sister. A sibling who could marry–

Victor's eyes widened. He looked at the Prince in front of him. A sibling.

Mouth suddenly dry, Victor licked his lips.

"Prince Yuuri?" he asked, glad that his voice was steady, because the rest of him felt anything but. "Do you hate me? As a person?"

The Prince frowned at him. "I don't know you well enough to have any personal feelings towards you, Prince Victor."

"Do you– Would you _want_ to get to know me?"

The eyes that have been watching him carefully until now narrowed.

"What are you truly asking of me, Your Highness?"

Prince Yuuri's quiet question made Victor's heart thump hard against his ribcage and on a released breath he spoke what his mind had concocted just moments before – a crazy idea, but one which made a frightening amount of sense:

"We should marry."

 

***

 

Yuuri stared at Prince Victor like he had grown another head. The very idea was as probable as the one that he had heard right what the Lesnyan Prince had just spoken.

"Excuse me, what was that you've just said?" he asked, breathless. "Can you repeat?"

"Marry me, Prince Yuuri."

There was no possible way Yuuri had misheard it the second time, so Prince Victor truly must have been offering his hand in marriage to–

" _Me?!_ " he squeaked. And cleared his throat because it did not become a Prince to squeak in the face of adversaries. Even if said adversaries were _only_ battling for his heart. "Why would you ask me to marry you? This has no merits at all for either of–"

"But it does!"

Prince Victor's eyes lit up and he covered the distance that Yuuri had created between them when he stepped back. For every step he took, Yuuri took one as well, and clearly Prince Victor had seen that Yuuri would not allow him to get close, for he lifted his hands up in surrender and stayed in place as he explained his thoughts.

"I cannot give up my title as the Crown Prince, but since Yugashina's rulers are always female your position is easily filled by others. I mean no offense to you, or the Empress," Prince Victor quickly amended when Yuuri frowned at his wording. "It is simply that you are free to marry a royal of another country, because _you can leave_. You need not stay, it is not expected of you. Which means you could come to Lesnya and become King Consort once I take the crown from my father."

"So you've robbed our people of their beloved Empress, and now you wish to take their Prince hostage as well?"

Yuuri swallowed the bile that was rising in his mouth. He believed that the Prince had good intentions. Despite his crass wording at times, he was honest, or at least he seemed to be in Yuuri's eye, which might always have been a game, but Yuuri... Yuuri wished to trust him. After all, if he did not, then any promises given to them from the Nikiforovs would mean nothing and the war would break out anyway.

"You will have to stay in Yugashina," he said through the numbness of his tongue. "If this has any chance of working, you need to stay here. The people need to see you. Get to know you. There is no other way, but..."

Yuuri looked at Prince Victor, knowing he would protest. He was the Crown Prince of Lesnya. He had a duty to his own people and couldn't abandon the country that depended on him simply because Yuuri had said so. As nice as having that kind of power would be, Yuuri knew he couldn't be unreasonable.

"Half a year."

"Half...?" Prince Victor repeated and Yuuri nodded.

"We will spend half a year in Yugashina, and the other half in Lesnya," he explained. "If you're sure this is what you want, that would be the only way. At least until the people get the justice they want."

"What I want," the Prince repeated again, his face drawn. "Is it what you want as well, Prince Yuuri? I don't want to force your hand. We are already on bad terms and it would not help any if the people saw us hating each other."

"It doesn't matter what I want, Prince Victor," Yuuri said confidently, even though his insides were curling with dread. "What Yugashina needs right now is to judge the murderer of the late Empress and peace at its Lesnyan border. If..." He took a deep breath and forced himself to meet the Prince's eyes. "If marrying you is the way to do it, then I will thank my Empress for permitting me to serve my country in this way and do it gladly."

Prince Victor was quiet for a long while as he measured Yuuri with his gaze. There was something in his face that did not match the charismatic man Yuuri knew him to be, but he could not name what it was, so he disregarded it. It did not matter anyway. Whoever the Prince was, whatever he felt – that mattered not. The only thing that remained of concern was to get their rulers' approval for the plan that could save them all, but could just as well be discarded as a silly idea spoken by a tired man to another such under the cover of the night.

Finally, Prince Victor extended a hand to him, palm up and open.

 

 

"Then let us make it happen," he said.

Yuuri could only nod his assent as he reached for the Prince's hand. Instead of a handshake like Yuuri expected, the Prince bypassed his hand and locked his fingers around Yuuri's forearm. He held on tight and so, Yuuri returned it. They were supposed to be equals in this and even if Prince Victor was to be King one day, until that time Yuuri will not let him get a step ahead.

Or so he hoped.

"Yuuri."

Yuuri startled at the sudden drop in title. The way it was spoken was like the name itself was a title and Yuuri could feel his cheeks flush, but he fought down the colour in order not to let it show that the Prince had gotten to him. The wind picked up again and the haori snapped around him angrily, yet it was nothing against the sway of Prince Victor's cape.

Lifting his chin up, Yuuri returned, "Victor."

Victor smiled at him, a small, private smile that Yuuri was too numb by the turn of events to mirror. Victor's hand was warm against the bare skin of Yuuri's arm.

"Until tomorrow then," Victor said as a way of goodbye and the smile disappeared.

At Yuuri's nod, he stepped away, ready to turn and melt into the shadows from whence he came, but something stopped him. He looked over his shoulder and with a gaze that was far sadder and heartfelt than any Yuuri had received from him before, he said:

"I am truly sorry for your loss. Please, pass this on to Her Imperial Highness as well."

Swallowing hard, Yuuri forced a "Thank you," out, but that seemed to be the height of his verbal prowess for the night. Victor offered him a final smile and turned again, yet he did not leave. It seemed as if an invisible force was holding him back and Yuuri couldn't guess what it was. He took the chance on it, though.

After a deep breath to cleanse his mind and a shift of the shoulders to straighten his spine, he locked his eyes on the head of silver hair that shone with the subtle sheen of moonlight coming through the clouds.

"Are you sure you want to follow through with this?" Yuuri asked of it, but when Victor turned to look at him, Yuuri could not hold his gaze directly. "We'd be bound for life. I cannot give you children to continue the line, you know that."

"I don't mind," Victor said, voice soft as if he was smiling, but Yuuri dared not look away from his forehead to confirm it. "There are other ways of assuring succession. For now, all I want is peace. Is that... how you see it, as well?"

"Yes," Yuuri replied, this time with no hesitation. He was not fit to be a father, not ready. Not yet. "I am glad I will not be robbing you of anything you do not want to relinquish."

"So am I," Victor admitted.

There was a pause again, during which the wind had rustled through the tall grass and beat on the canvas of the tents, while they remained silent and still like two statues that could not feel the inner turmoil of what they had agreed to minutes before. Yuuri did not know what else to say, how to end this bizarre conversation he had not in his wildest dreams could have predicted taking place, but he needn't have worried. Victor, who was far more eloquent with his words than Yuuri could ever be with his own, saved him from the trouble.

"Well then," Victor spoke, a cheerful lilt to his voice. "I feel like if I don't leave right now, I will never leave. Goodnight, Yuuri. Sleep well."

Without waiting for a reply, he moved. This time his steps were decisive and Yuuri watched the Lesnyan Prince go until his silhouette disappeared into the darkness of the shadows that the watchtower behind them provided. Having returned to the camp, into the light of pit fires and torches, Yuuri felt like he was coming out of a long dream, a nightmare that maybe, possibly, could be at a beginning of its end. At last.

 


	3. Chapter III

 

**Chapter III**

 

 

"That still doesn't settle right with me," Mari sighed.

Daylight broke over the horizon and covered the world in grey like a blanket, finding them together in the royal tent, hours after Victor's visit. Yuuri had gone straight to the Empress, well aware that if he was left to his own thoughts, they would muck about in his head and create more problems than they solved. She was understandably cranky when he woke her up only an hour or two after he told her to rest, but she did not make much of it – she took one look at Yuuri's face and knew the matter to be serious. Instead of keeping the mood he'd set, she laughed heartily when the words 'Lesnya', 'Crown Prince', 'marriage' and 'me' were spoken in succession and it took a moment for her to realize that Yuuri was not joking. Her expression turned thunderous then, but no matter how many arguments Yuuri presented to convince her that it was the best way, the only thing they could accept, the scowl did not change.

"I don't like this much more than you do," he finally agreed. "Mother... She always wanted us to marry for love, remember? Not like this."

"And you still can," Mari insisted. "Simply because it is more convenient does not mean we need to follow through with it. You made no promises to the Prince other than to tell me about it, so I see no reason to further speak of it if you are not amenable to the idea."

Yuuri sighed, closed his eyes, and said, "It isn't like that, Mari. I am not... opposed to it."

He took the cup of tea that had already gone cold during their discussion and moved his hands over the slick rim, feeling for any bums and cracks in the porcelain. There were none. Only the most perfect for the Empress. The lone leaf on the surface of the tea swam around in confusion, brushed by the last of Yuuri's breath, and Yuuri felt just like it did – uncertain, but eager to act.

"We need this union," Yuuri said to the leaf. He did not know if he was convincing himself or Mari, but he would take either at the moment, so he continued: "We will get the second most important figurehead of Lesnya under our care for half a year. Once that is gone, and the murderer still isn't found and tried, we can always refuse to give him back." He lifted his gaze, mouth set. "If there is to be a war, we can just as well postpone it now and start it that way later, right, sister?"

She looked at him for a while, but then her lips quirked.

"I sometimes forget how shrewd your mind gets," she said. Yuuri, unsure if it was a praise or not, only inclined his head. "We will get that Prince for six months, that is true, but if they deliver on their promises, you will be expected to leave with him once the time comes. Are you sure you can handle it?"

"It's only six months," Yuuri repeated. "If he can handle the hate he will be met with at every turn, I sure can take to living in Vidnokutsk."

Mari said nothing to that, but the silence didn't sit right with Yuuri, so he kept talking.

"I know it won't be easy. We'll be married. It will be expected of me to be at his side. He's still the Crown Prince, so whatever my own personal feelings and title are, he outranks me and I will have to give him ground at some point, but I don't want to make Yugashina appear weak. I have to do my best to act as much a royal as he is, so that we get the same amount of respect. People will overlook me in Lesnya, I already know this. It will... it will be hard. But I'll make it work. I have to. I– I have to."

His hands were clenched on the porcelain so tight that his fingers were white enough to rival the colour of the cup. He released it, afraid to break the fragile thing, and twined his fingers together in his lap.

"If it gets too much, remember where your home is," Mari spoke. Her voice was quiet, but serious enough that Yuuri lifted his head to look at her. She was gazing at him like his mother often did, with soft eyes and hard face, and an ache of longing awoke in Yuuri's heart. "You will always be welcome in Yugashina. Even if you start a war by running away."

They both smiled at that, since they knew it would never happen. Yuuri would rather die trying to fix the wrongs than leave his country to suffer the consequences of his actions.

"Victor doesn't seem too bad a person," Yuuri added hesitantly. "I think... I think we can make it work."

"Oh? Is it _Victor_ now? My, how scandalous," Mari's smile widened.

Yuuri could tell the tips of his ears had turned red from the light stinging that travelled down his nape.

"He started it," he mumbled petulantly, which only made Mari laugh.

Their moment was broken by Mari's attendant slipping in and announcing a rider from the Lesnyan camp with a message to the Empress. Standing up, Yuuri moved to cover Mari with his body right when the flap of the tent reopened and a man dressed in Lesnyan riding clothes stepped in. He saluted, didn't bow, and stepped forward.

"I'll take it," Yuuri said, holding out a hand.

Reluctantly, the man gave him the envelope. He stayed, clearly expected to bring back a reply, so without wasting time, Yuuri broke the seal. He opened the letter, checking for any abnormalities, but once he found no poison seeped into the paper or ink, he handed it to Mari.

"An invitation," Mari said after scanning the text. "For breakfast. Tell His Majesty that we accept and will be there within an hour," she told the messenger who saluted again and left to carry the reply to his King.

When he disappeared and they were once again alone, Mari grinned at Yuuri like she'd used to when they were kids:

"At least we'll know if they can feed you right."

Yuuri sputtered to the sound of her laughter. But then he smiled a little as well, because this was much preferable to the tension and despair they had travelled into the first meeting with. He just hoped that Victor was able to succeed on his end of things.

 

***

 

Yuuri barely slid out of his saddle, face still wind-flushed, when Victor appeared at their side armed with a charming smile. Yuuri couldn't bring himself to return it, but the simple nod in greeting that he'd offered seemed to be enough, because Victor's smile widened as if he was happy at such an insignificant thing. Slightly bewildered, Yuuri followed Mari through the camp, while Victor filled his silence with good-natured chatter that Mari, strangely enough, indulged him in.

They passed the tent where the negotiations had taken place the previous day and ventured farther into the camp: past multiple tents, soldiers standing guard and horses feeding on the already flattened grass of the hill. 

"We're here," Victor said at last.

A guard lifted the flap of the tent dutifully.

"Careful of the head, Your Imperial Highness, the opening is short."

He waited until Yuuri had passed as well before he followed suit. The aura of displeasure was thick in the open-roofed tent that Victor had brought them into and it took Yuuri only a glance to tell why – the King's face was clouded like the sky before a storm, and that storm had just arrived.

The exchange of greetings was kept short, curt and tense, so they all quickly took their places around a much smaller, less extravagant table that was set for the four of them. Yuuri waited for Mari to sit, and this time Victor did too, for which Yuuri's appreciation of the Lesnyan Prince grew approvingly. The servants jumped into action, offering them food on silver plates, but before anyone could taste any of it, the King was speaking. And his voice demanded attention.

"Our son has told us of the brilliant plan you've come up with," he said as if it was them who had invented the idea of the royal marriage. "You sure are reaching high."

"Reaching?" Mari asked, eyebrow arched. "All of us at this table are of direct royal descent, there is no reaching that you speak of." She paused. "Unless you think your blood is somehow superior to ours, in which case we might have a different problem altogether."

"Nothing such," Victor rushed to explain, resting a hand on his father's elbow. It made the King's scowl deepen, but he said nothing of it. "We are happy that our lines finally have a chance to join after all these years."

"Overjoyed," the King added, clearly meaning anything but.

"So are we."

Mari smiled at King Nikiforov, a nasty smile that was meant to infuriate and truly managed its job. Yuuri released some of the breath he'd been holding in his lungs. His eyes met Victor's across the table. Blue, curious, wondering, they gazed into him like he was a crystal ball and Yuuri felt just as exposed. He quickly turned his face away, choosing to focus on the King's thunderous visage instead.

"We are still of the opinion that it would be best if Her Imperial Highness herself was a part of the arrangement."

The King shrugged off his son's hand and reached to rip away a piece of the bread that had been laid out before him. He stabbed one perfect dice of cheese with vengeance before he spoke again. Yuuri somehow had the feeling that he imagined Mari's face while doing it and his jaw clenched tight.

"Our son is the Crown Prince who will inherit our throne, title, lands, people; everything that comes with it. He should have a match of equal standing, no less."

Amused, Mari replied, "'It would not be equal, Your Majesty. You would lose a son, since our tradition requires any husband of mine to live by my side and renounce all his titles, except for those which I bestow upon him out of my gracious heart. For generations our Empresses have married for love. We will not be breaking that chain on this day. Especially for one that cannot rid himself of his earthly possessions to serve his Empress."

"So you would sell your brother in your stead? How honourable," the King mocked, and Yuuri had had enough.

"Father–"

"It is not selling, if it is done willingly," Yuuri interrupted Victor's plea. He stared King Nikiforov in the eye. "Maybe in your country a marriage such as this is a thing to be ashamed of, I wouldn't know. But for us, the royalty of Yugashina, the peace and prosperity of our people is more important than our own freedom, so if it is required of me to marry into your family, I will do so gladly on my Empress' order."

Mari reached for a ripe pear. "Well said, brother. If it brings us peace, we are willing to let you have one of our royal blood. But..."

She took a knife that rested next to her plate, peeled the pear off its skin strip by strip and then bit into it: juice pouring down her hand while her fingers bruised the delicate fruit. Chewing slowly, she looked at King Nikiforov like a lazy cat that had just had its fill of mice. Finally, she swiped her clean thumb over her lips to clean off the juice and spoke:

"If even one hair on my brother's head is ruffled by you or yours, mark my words, you will taste the full wrath of Yugashina's armies. You might be taking our General Commander, but if he is harmed under your care, I will don the armour myself and take revenge for both him and our mother. You've been warned."

"Do not intimidate us, Empress," the King replied, unshaken by the declaration. "It is only natural that we return that sentiment to you, but we believe you already know that. Isn't that your plan? To hold our son hostage against us as you force our hand?"

"Contrary to what your convictions are, Your Majesty, Yugashina does not wish for your demise." Mari finished her pear and threw the butt onto the bed of peeled skin on her plate. She wiped her hands into a cloth offered by a servant and continued: "All we want is justice for our mother, the Empress Hiroko. If you put all your efforts into finding the party responsible for her death, then nothing will happen to your son during his stay in Kamisunouchi. You have my word."

"And if we don't?"

Neither of them believed it would happen, but the King was testing Mari, wanting to see how far she'd go, but she calmly sat back and gave him a simple glance.

"Then we will return to this conversation at that time," she said and that was it.

"Half a year," the King added. Mari nodded.

"That seems like a fair amount of time for you to gather your wits, doesn't it? In the meanwhile, the marriage will hopefully appease our people's thirst for revenge."

"And the wedding?" the King asked, looking at the food instead of either of them. "I expect it will be a farce held only for your people's benefit?"

"Since that is the main objective of this entire scheme, yes," Mari replied easily. "We will need time to prepare, of course, so I was thinking... in a month's time? That should give all of us sufficient room to get acquainted with the idea of the marriage between Prince Victor and Yuuri."

"Do you expect me to be there for the planning and such?" Victor asked, looking between Mari and Yuuri, and it was Yuuri who chose to answer.

"No. You should return home. See to the matters that need your attention. You will be gone for half a year, after all, I'm sure you will have your hands full. It would be unreasonable of us to ask you to drop everything at a day's notice."

Victor gave him a small smile that Yuuri wouldn't call grateful even if they were about to dismember him by horses. There was something about Victor's smiles that gave him pause, and it was not connected to his charm or the ease with which they appeared – it was far more unsettling, as if he was putting on trained expressions like a mime that could do nothing but smile. The hair on the back of Yuuri's nape tingled at the thought.

"Once the month passes, you should travel to Matsurano. I will meet you there and escort you to the capitol," Yuuri said to distract himself from his thoughts. "It will be safest that way. No one should bother you if I'm there as well."

"Thank you, Yuuri," Victor replied with another smile that Yuuri looked away from.

"Will you attend the wedding, Your Majesty?" Yuuri turned to the King instead.

The response was immediate, "No."

Which was what they had been expecting, in all truth. What they were not expecting was the following:

"We will be sending a delegation of lords to vouch for our presence and to give value to what they witness at the ceremony. There can't be rumours of any deceit travelling around." The King paused, then looked to Mari. "On that note, you should have your scribes draw a contract, as will we. Everything must be documented. I will not have you back on your word once the time has passed for my heir to return home."

"It shall be done," Mari acquiesced. "You can expect it by next morrow."

"Very well." The King inclined his head. "Now, let's eat or all of this will go to waste."

They all dug into the food, while Yuuri sat with his back straight against the wooden back of his chair and fought nausea at the thought that tomorrow he will be signed off to the Lesnyan Prince like cattle. Despite his words, despite the brave facade he put on, he hated it, of course he had. And the empty smile Prince Victor was giving him every time their eyes met... _that_ Yuuri hated the most, because if everything went according to plan it would be the thing he'd watch for the rest of his life.

How... wretched.

 

***

 

Victor walked the Empress and Prince Yuuri, _Yuuri_ , back to where most of their guard stood watch over the horses. Today, apart from the few times his father's stubborn nature showed through, could be considered a success. More than anything, though, Victor was glad that it went as smoothly as it had, because it gave them the much needed time to deal with both matters at hand – the Turlan front, and Yugashina. And if the cost of that was his own freedom, as Yuuri had so put: he was willing to pay it.

Matching Yuuri's stride now, Victor turned to him.

"I was wondering if maybe I could speak to you a while longer," he said to Yuuri, who looked at him with an unreadable expression. "We are to be married, after all. I wish to get to know you better, if only a little, since time does not permit us much more."

Yuuri remained gazing at him for a while, before he turned to the Empress as if seeking permission. Her eyes moved from him to Victor, and Victor could feel their weight on him like the threat it was. Then she returned to Yuuri and nodded.

"I shall begin the work on the documents," she informed. "Don't stay out too long, we are hardly at peace."

"Understood."

She motioned for half the guards to stay, which they obeyed with low bows. Yuuri bowed deeply as well, but Victor noticed that while the others bent their spines, Yuuri did not. He only lowered his neck and back a little, surely a sign of his higher status as the Empress' brother. Only when the sound of hooves hitting the ground faded did they all straighten up and Yuuri turned to give Victor his attention again.

"What was it you wished to speak about?" he asked.

Victor smiled. "I do not have a subject picked yet, but how about... your favourite flower?"

It was a clumsy start, but a start nonetheless. Victor watched how the corner of Yuuri's mouth twitched, in a smile or a scowl, he couldn't tell, but it was far better a reaction than he could have hoped for anyway.

"My what now?" Yuuri asked. Victor only continued smiling, so he pursed his lips and turned away before he said: "Camellias."

"Oh," Victor breathed. "I've never seen one of those with my own eyes. A picture, yes, but not a real one."

"You will have a chance to. In Kamisunouchi," Yuuri told him. "There are many flowers in the Royal Garden, but the camellias... they were my mother's favourite."

A flicker of sadness passed through Yuuri's face, but it was gone before Victor could apologize for bringing up something so painful. Yuuri seemed to be good at schooling his expression into nothingness, but was prone to feeling emotions. Like the anger that Victor had seen during their first meeting, the shock he'd seen the night before, distrust, disbelief, and now sorrow as well. It was Yuuri's own mask, one that Victor could recognize, because the smile he often wore was another such.

He was gathering the right words to speak after the mood was set back to the cold propriety, when Yuuri glanced at him from the side and asked, "What about you?"

"Camomile," Victor replied with no hesitation, smiling a true smile. "Because of my mother as well. She makes incredible tea out of them. Soothing and warm, it always smells like autumn evenings before a fireplace."

"That sounds... comforting," Yuuri allowed.

"I will bring some with me, in a month," Victor said. "We can try it together, if you wish?"

"I would like that, thank you."

Yuuri's voice was pleasant and quiet, almost drowned by the noise of the camp. As they walked into the outskirts, followed only by Yuuri's personal guard, Victor could hear more of him, clearer, as if Yuuri thrived better the less people there was around him. Carefully sneaking a glance at him, Victor found himself looking straight into Yuuri's eyes that have already been watching him. Caught, Victor's face heated up.

"There is much we need to learn about each other, about each other's countries and customs, and I know it will be hard, at times event too hard, but–" Yuuri paused.

Victor saw him chew on his lip, the first sign he'd seen of Yuuri's nerves, since they met. It was, oddly, a calming thought that he wasn't the only one who felt so out of his depth.

"I want us to succeed," Yuuri continued. "I do not wish for this to be a scam of a marriage. I don't want this to be a foolery. Despite how it came to be, I want it to be real. I want _us_ to be real. With one another. Do you think..." He took a deep breath and looked Victor in the eye. "Do you think that is possible?"

Victor took a moment to align his thoughts, but he already knew what he wanted to express.

"I don't know if it is, Yuuri," he admitted honestly. "But I know that I wish to try to make it so. I may not have come here with any thoughts on marriage, but if this works, we might be able to bridge a grudge that had been buried between our nations for centuries and... isn't that worth at least a try?" He smiled, small, uncertain, until Yuuri gave a nod. "I promise that I will do what is in my power to be a good husband to you, if you promise me the same."

"For the sake of Yugashina–"

"And Lesnya," Victor cut in.

"–and Lesnya," Yuuri agreed, "and all our people, I promise to be a good husband to you, if you are a good husband to me."

Feeling bold, Victor offered Yuuri his hand palm up and once Yuuri had placed his there, he lifted it up to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. The hand he held onto trembled a little and when he looked up, he noticed that Yuuri's cheeks were a deep pink. Brown eyes, now turning amber in the morning sun, were wide as they gazed at Victor with unhidden shock.

"Ah, forgive me," Victor said quickly, straightening, but he did not let go of Yuuri's hand. "Was that too forward?"

Yuuri opened his mouth and then closed it. He looked away, the flush still high on his cheeks. With a growing delight Victor noticed that he did not take his hand back.

"A little forward," Yuuri finally admitted in a voice so soft Victor could miss it if he wasn't waiting for it. "We do not do things like that in Yugashina, so... it will take some time before I'm used to it."

_To you._

That remained unspoken, but Victor could tell that it was what Yuuri meant to say. He squeezed the hand that lied cold and nervous in his and smiled in a way that he hoped was reassuring.

"It will for me as well," he said. "Will you teach me?"

Yuuri's shy nod made the hope in Victor's heart bloom in brilliant green, fresh and supple.

 

***

 

The new treaty was signed on the break of dawn, when the world was still gray, cold and asleep. Two sets of signatures on two sets of documents, one in Lesnyan, one in Yugashinian, were placed next to each other as a means of upholding peace and hope between their countries.

Yuuri watched the courtier pick the valuable paper and hide it in an unbreakable tube to protect the copies. The finality settled in his bones like a winter chill. His fate had been sealed as securely as the wax that locked the agreement within its prison, so that they never see the light of day and risk fading.

King Nikiforov did not delay more. He left without a word to either Yuuri or Mari, but that was preferable. Yuuri was not partial to squabbling that day. Victor, however, took one glance at his father's retreating back and stepped forward in dismay. He smiled at Yuuri, at Mari, and then made a bow: a proper, deep bow that spoke of his respect and compliance; one that Yuuri had taught him just the morning before.

Mari's lips upturned at that. "Maybe you will not be so lost with us, Prince Victor. We will take good care of you, our word still stands. Worry not."

"I am not concerned with that, Your Imperial Highness. I trust you will," Victor replied smoothly, keeping his gaze low. Like Yuuri had told him to. "I merely wish to impress my soon-to-be wedded." Here, he looked up with a smile that he sent directly at Yuuri. "Did I do well?"

Yuuri withered under the gaze, the smile, the entire front Victor had put onto his face. Because he knew that the man could not be this happy deep inside his heart. He was in the same fragile position as Yuuri himself, and if Yuuri felt the discomfort of dread at every turn, so must have Victor. Which was why, with every smile, Yuuri's trust in the Lesnyan Prince wavered, replaced by thoughts of betrayal, scheming, disloyalty...

Victor remained bowed all this time, waiting for Yuuri's assessment and Yuuri, despite his doubts, was not cruel enough to make him grovel. He made a performance out of walking up to the Prince, circling around him as if he was watching a fine specimen of his breed – and he was, truly – and finally stopped before him once again.

"Your back is bent," was the first thing Yuuri said and then it flowed out of his mouth like the mountain rivers of Yamanobe. "Your knees are trembling and your hands are in wrong positions. You lack stamina. And patience. When facing the Empress, or any of the royal blood, you do not lift your face until you are told to."

The flicker of brightness in Victor's face melted off and away. Yuuri could not help but wonder if maybe he was real in trying to impress them, yet... what did he have to gain by it? Unable to find the answer, but soft in his heart, Yuuri put a hand on the still bowed silver head.

"But," he added, running his fingers through strands so silky it could've been spider web, and letting his hand trail down the neck, the shoulder, the arm, until he could grasp Victor's hand and pull him up, "it was a good first try."

Holding the Prince's hand, Yuuri thought of returning the favour from yesterday and pressing his lips to his knuckles, but for him that was too courageous. He ran his thumb over the back of Victor's hand, a gesture to imitate what his lips could not give, but it seemed enough. The Prince's cheeks, already stained with a flush, deepened into a shade of pink that reminded Yuuri of his mother's beloved camellias. Victor met his gaze, tenderly shy, which was so unlike him that Yuuri's body froze as if he stumbled upon something that was not meant for human eye.

Mari's sudden laughter brought them both out of the daze and Yuuri dropped Victor's hand quickly, like one does something disgusting, even if it was the farthest of it.

"We'll be waiting for you in a month, Prince Victor," Mari offered. Yuuri was thankful she did not mention how his own cheeks wore a crimson to rival Victor's. "I am certain that you will be as eager to learn about one another then as you are now. After all, the absence makes the heart grow fond, does it not?"

Yuuri dared not look at Victor when he replied, but when the Lesnyan Prince said "I am certain of it, Your Imperial Highness," he could tell that the next month will run by far too fast and then... he will have to face the reality that he did not wish to face, and deal with that which he wished not to deal with, yet what terrified him the most was that he will need to serve his country in ways he never had before.

Was he ready for that? No.

But he was the only one that could protect Yugashina from war, and if by doing so he'd lose his mind, body and soul... that would be the risk they all had to take to save far more than just one miserable Prince's happiness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that would be all for today... but not all for the story ;3c I have a lot of planned for it, so much that it couldn't all fit in the timeframe I had to create these three chapters. in fact, there are two acts that I currently know of, and the first one contains at least 9 chapters - 3 of which you have just read ;3c u can treat this as a sort of prologue to the real story, I guess? anyway, I plan to finish this slowly but surely, you can rest easy! I'm not certain when I will be able to update bc I'm busy with other projects atm, but I do have lots of passion left to give to this story, so pls keep an eye out for more ^u^)b
> 
> thank you so much for reading this far, I truly hope you enjoyed it and that you'll stick around for more! you can always follow me on tumblr [@katzuyas](http://katzuyas.tumblr.com/), too! and remember to check out [nadia's art](http://yukiyuna.tumblr.com/post/166818992213/then-let-us-make-it-happen-he-said-yuuri-could)! ♥️


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